QR Code Murders: Specters

The headlights looked like a smear of yellows and whites along the highway. The duo didn’t talk about Tyquise. Both of them were focused on the road. Then Yawquisha pulled out her camera and reviewed the footage she had captured the previous week.

“You should eat something. You want me to stop at the Border Inn?”

“Sure. I’ll treat you this time.”

They got drinks. A bourbon for Kim and a shot of tequila to go with their brisket quesadillas.

“You know I had someone close to me murdered,” Kim said. “This is before the Corps or anything. I think I was nine. It was my uncle. He lived in Wilmington, too. Anyway, someone just ran into his house and beat him to death. The case is still cold and it was over—well, it was a long time ago.”

“I wanted to discuss the next case,” Yawquisha replied.

“Oh, yeah, sure. We can definitely talk about that.”

“How are the different sides related? What can the murders on Southbridge, East Side, and West Side all have to do with the previous murders?” Yawquisha asked.

“That’s my work. That’s my life’s work right now. I want to know how these QR codes have been so trendy. They’re starting to pop up in Jersey and Philly. Then the FBI will be involved. The tri-state area is so crucial now that acts from Delaware are starting to get recognition. The only thing is, once they get it, they’re gunned down.”

“Like Tyquise,” Yawquisha said.

“You didn’t know him all that well, right?”

“I still knew him as a value in my life.”

Kim sipped some of her drink. “I’m sorry that was really insensitive on my part.”

“I just want to find the bastards who are doing all these ugly acts,” Yawquisha mentioned.

“I do, too. I think your videos are providing a way for people to get informed about what’s going on in this state. You’re reaching more people than the department could ever include in a witness collection or a dragnet.” Kim put her quesadilla in her mouth and washed it down with bourbon.

Yawquisha exhaled. “I’m doing this for me. This is help, assistance to those grieving and wondering how to stop these killings. The finality is that this is my own selfish endeavor to generate more funds. I think it’s a trade.”

“You’re right. You’re right.” She paused for a moment. “You know I started reading We the Living. It’s…good.”

“Finish that and then read Anthem. I know you can handle it, but The Fountainhead and Atlas Shrugged will come later after those two.”

Kim flashed a rare smile. It was like a flash of energy had surged to her mouth and brightened her face. Yawquisha laughed a little bit. She moderated her intake and just had the one shot and water.

Kim went in another direction. “So we can say that the best Tex-Mex restaurant is still the Inn.”

“We agree on a lot. Not everything which is healthy. We’re not automatons tethered to each other’s brains.”

Kim observed relative abstinence and ceased with the next round. She called for the check.

“I got this,” Yawquisha said.

“I’ll pay for yours and you pay for mine,” Kim said.

“Deal.”

Back on the road, silence blanketed both women. Yawquisha thought about expanding and licensing her work. She had a few offers to sell her stuff but balked at every opportunity. These were her creations and she was not going to let them loose like water through fingertips.

In Kim’s mind she focused on the cases. They were the specters in the dark that haunted her consciousness.